An Affair with the President

I felt my Samsung phone, placed strategically under my pillow, vibrated, and my heart quickly hammered in my chest in anticipation.

My mind on alert, I quickly opened my eyes and fished the phone out of its confines.

All this while, my chest heaved in anticipation and excitement.  

I took in several gulps of air - alternately breathing in and out to calm my raging nerves before I held the phone to my face and tried to read in the dark.

It was a short message, very straight-forward - the kind that is depressing in its formality.  

There was not even a salutation that would disprove the formality of the message. It only said, ‘Please, come to my room,’ 

Despite that, it sent a slow thrill that made my heart sing. 

I have been anxiously waiting for him to call me. I despaired at the thought that he would not.

Now that I am face-to-face with this reality, my stomach churned with excitement. It created a slow simmer that traveled the length of my spine down to my toes, making it curl. 

Before I could move, a nagging thought alarmed in my head. Like a school bell, it gave a warning. 

But I could not ignore his call. Against my sensibilities, I bolted from the bed I shared with my teenage daughter Daphne. She slept with me instead of in her room so she could guard me, she said.  

But she was so far gone off to sleep that my slightest movement did not wake her up. Tenderness welled up in my chest. I watched her upper body slowly rise and fall in even breaths. I caressed her face. My girl is growing up. She moved to change her position in the bed and grunted. 

In bated breath, I watched her. Afraid that she might wake up. My phone vibrated once again. I am quite sure it came from the same person.

Too impatient.

The thought brought a bittersweet smile to my face.

Reluctantly, I tore my eyes from my daughter and carefully got out of the bed.

With measured steps, I tiptoed to the bathroom carrying my phone with me. It is our only connection through all this chaos.

I buckled in mid-stride, but I was quick to hold on to the wall to gain my balance. And then, I squared my shoulders and continued the short walk to the bathroom. 

Quietly, I opened and closed the door before I turned on the switch. My eyes blinked in reflex while it adjusted to the light.  

My movements were brisk when I brushed my teeth and washed my face to sweep away any traces of sleep. Then I ran my hands to my hair, putting some semblance of order to my messy tresses before I searched the counter for the bottle of my favorite perfume, the Yves St. Laurent’s Black Opium.

I smiled when I found it. I put the nozzle to my nose and sniffed. The combination of the smell of coffee, white flowers, and vanilla reached my nostrils, and I smiled to myself before I spritzed my pulse points, the back of my ears, and my neck with the fragrance.

Next, I checked my night attire of peach satin shorts with spaghetti straps and groaned. There would be no time to change now. I grabbed its matching robe from the towel rack to wear over my sleep garb.

With measured steps, I got out of the bathroom and very slowly walked to the door. Cautiously, I turned the knob open, and off to the darkness, I went.